


Night Dragon

by Jazzine (user_name), user_name



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Dancer Kim Jongin | Kai, Danger, Dark, Detectives, Drugs, Dystopia, Future, Hallucinations, Hybrid Kim Jongin | Kai, Love, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Stripper Kim Jongin | Kai, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Surreal, Trigger Warning ⚠️ Brief sexual harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-03 22:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20460776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/user_name/pseuds/Jazzine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/user_name/pseuds/user_name
Summary: Jongin and Kyungsoo are detectives. To bring down a drug lord, Jongin offers to go undercover as a stripper at their target's club to gather evidence.





	Night Dragon

_ “Breaking news, thunderstorms continue to wrack the nation.” _

Suho’s Vintage Television Emporium boasts eight proud aisles of holo screen televisions. Jongin watches intently as forty 3D projections of news anchor Melanie Morris speak in near perfect unison. _ “In other news, doctors continue to be mystified by the mysterious headache epidemic that originated in the major port city of Seattle and has since spread as far north as Vancouver. Side effects include intense thirst, constipation, nausea, pupil constriction, and unidentifiable craving, with young adults aged 18 to 25 affected most. Doctors advise patients to report to their local hospital for quarantine—” _

Jongin picks up the remote. _ Bzzt. _ Melanie Morris’s hologram morphs into a vivid little frog with gooey looking toes. It blinks its liquid black eyes plaintively, staring at nothing and everything all at once. “Joey, the last golden-toed tree frog of the Amazon Rainforest, has died today at the age of three due to secondhand smoke absorption.” Jongin watches as Joey greys and shrivels into a husk of a frog, a black raisin frog, a lung cancer frog. Even his eyes dry and harden into little black stones, rough like unshelled peppercorns. “His species are now extinct in the wild.” 

_ Bzzt. _ Now a dead fish, its insides ripped open to show loose grey flesh. “Seattle’s salmon are dropping dead at an alarming rate. Could climate change be the culprit?”

_ Bzzt. _ “Climate change deniers bar UN Council members from convening this morning.”

_ Bzzt. _ “Hurricane Diane, Evan, Frank, Garfield-Harper-Ian-Joy! What will it take for us to take climate change _ seriously?” _

_ Bzzt. _ “China is behind global warming and the dog flu!”

_ Bzzt. _ A man with the face of a red balloon shakes his fist in the air as he yells, “Frogs are just ONE part of the government’s UNDERCOVER AGENDA! CHEMICALS in our WATER and SOY in our FOOD are responsible for turning our country GAY! Why—!” He stops to button his sleeve, which has slid down to reveal a gold Rolex on his wrist. “Why? Because frogs! I say good riddance to frogs! Good fucking r— _ ” _

Jongin switches back to the news. He mulls things over at the cash register with a cold ciabatta in hand and decides it’s been about time that doomsday hit. 

Kyungsoo comes over to rest his chin on Jongin’s shoulder. Together they watch Melanie Morris hand off the weather to Steve, who reports high alert storm conditions and advises everyone to stay inside. 

After a moment, Kyungsoo pipes up. “So, _ Jongin, _Suho wants us to look into that new nightclub in the International District three blocks away…”

Jongin pulls apart the bread and pouts over his sad lettuce. He ignores Kyungsoo’s fingers, now carding through his hair. It feels good. Kyungsoo always does that when he wants something. “What? On a weeknight? But who’ll look after shop?” 

“Min can cover our shifts. Min, you up for Wednesday?”

“Sure,” Minseok chirps from the VCR aisle. All Kyungsoo can see is the top of his fuzzy head, his hands no doubt working overtime to clear the shelves of any and all specks of dust.

“Thank you, dear,” Kyungsoo says. Minseok’s a cheery little chipmunk as always, no questions asked. “Now don’t sleep too late, either of you.” Kyungsoo stuffs the rest of the ciabatta down Jongin’s throat (“Mmph, Soo, I’m good!”) and wipes his hands off on Jongin’s work vest before waddling away, no doubt to retire to his cot in the break room. 

With much effort, Jongin swallows and looks down at the remaining food in his hand. It looks how he feels; droopy, saggy, and sopping with a little too much mayo. Maybe he’ll get a temporary little beer belly like Chanyeol, nothing the doctors nowadays can’t fix. Maybe then Kyungsoo will stop dragging him along on all these missions. 

It’s not that he lacks ambition, it’s just, aren’t they getting a little too old for all this? It seems all their friends are hitting their thirties now; even Yixing’s retired from the pharmaceutical industry, or whatever witchcraft he was doing at that factory. That’ll be him and Soo in a few years, hopefully. Can anyone blame him for wanting to settle down? He and Soo can sing from their old R&B album and watch TV together like they used to, maybe teach a few couples’ tango classes if they’re feeling adventurous.

Jongin chews thoughtfully at his register and stares at the news through the rest of the night, even after Minseok shuts off the fluorescent lights. Blue glow lights his face from below and his jaw works patiently as he chews through the store’s remaining microwave burritos. It makes him look almost alien. 

Deep down, Jongin knows it’s about the money. It’s always about the money. But isn’t it easier to just pretend Kyungsoo has a flair for adventure?

Not a single customer enters while Minseok tidies up aisles six to eight. He works on, no questions asked.

Under the counter, Jongin holds an open case file on his lap, courtesy of Suho. _ Asian male, 6’2, blonde, around 160 lbs, suspected of leading armed drug deals. Dealers know him as Wu. Last seen wearing black suit and tie on the corner of Cherry and Columbia, International District. _ Even with the low quality, Jongin can tell the man has a jaw sharp enough to cut diamonds. There’s a little smudge of baked bean drippage on one folded corner of the grainy image, but Jongin doesn’t mind. He’s not Kyungsoo.

***

It’s dusk. The raindrops are grey and humid and the way they cling to Kyungsoo’s skin makes him feel dirty with sweat—not so helpful when he’s shivering behind a pair of fake tits and lashes while people watching from above. Ever since the dissolution of the police force last year, it’s been easy to find abandoned rooftops to hide out on. Too easy. Kyungsoo surveys the alley from where he’s crouched above and decides it’s far too crowded to get in by force—he could walk across the sea of heads like a bridge if he wanted to. Bouncers masked in black stand around like stones, their faces so featureless they blend into the night. A few paces away, Jongin slinks around the line of nightclub hopefuls like a fastfoot ferret, his path towards the doorway erratic but clear.

The largest bouncer stands in the doorway and Jongin’s close, almost directly under Kyungsoo now, sporting a full face silicone mask as always—they prefer stealth on undercover missions, especially ones where the target has yet to be identified. Jongin looks like a remarkably unremarkable white man in his twenties, while Kyungsoo has chosen the more discreet role of passing as a woman in a fishnet suit jacket. 

Wrapped around Kyungsoo’s waist is a belt with all manners of hidden darts, pocket knives, and vials of venom capable of gelatinizing warm blood in a heartbeat. In his breast pocket sits a highly sensitive bug, its electric pulse glaring red like a heart, its wired sensors poking through as false gold cufflinks and thread. One of its wiry nodes attaches to his in-ear and goes up his nostrils to rest in his brain. Jongin has an identical one nestled in his ears only; the nostril wires make him sneeze. It’s annoying.

Jongin’s heart is pumping into overdrive. Being in the middle of a cloud of perfume and Axe body spray doesn’t stop him from sensing something dreadfully familiar in the air. Something tangy and electric. Shit, there’s no way Kyungsoo knows—he hasn’t seen artificially seeded thunderclouds or dealt with the warring farmers in China. 

A boom-crackle of light and static thunder splits the night just as Jongin digs his finger into his ear. A man screams. Others gasp.

_ Close your eyes, Soo. _Kyungsoo’s in-ear crackles to life a second too late; his pupils disappear into pinpricks at the blinding flash in the sky and he drops to his knees instantly, clutching and clenching his fists at the headache that’s begun to brew behind his eyes. 

Great. A migraine is the last thing he needs right now.

But no matter. He blinks the spots from his eyes and sees the signature purple lighting of the Wu nightclub flash once, twice, taunting him.

The rain is warm but it makes him shivery. He hardly notices the low, concerned murmur that begins to spread through the skimpily dressed crowd, and the hush is soon replaced by commotion anyways as a woman tries to dive past the bouncer in a desperate lunge for the doorway. She’s easily caught around the waist, but that doesn’t stop her from kicking. “Let me in! I left my purse in there the last time I was here, please, I just need to get it back!” 

“Let us in too! What’s taking so long?” someone else roars from the back. It sets off a push-and-pull chain reaction as the people in the back squish the line to surge forwards and the people in front fall and stomp on each other’s toes in outrage. Soon, the crowd is crashing in waves. 

It’s perfect.

_ Ready? _asks Jongin’s voice in his mind. The combination of the in-ears’ electric signaling and some good guesswork makes nonverbal communication possible.

_ Ready. _

Jongin dives through the crowd at the doorway while Kyungsoo slides down the emergency chute of the building like a strange sort of Spider-Man. He lands smoothly beside Jongin on the pavement, tapping him twice on the heel. _ Hey. _

_Hey. _Jongin tilts his head. He’ll never get over how good Kyungsoo looks in a wig. His cheeks are tinged slightly pink. _You okay?_ _You look like you’ve seen something weird._

Kyungsoo’s temples throb at Jongin’s voice in his head, but he just shrugs. _ Too many people. Tell you later. _He strides towards the door. The purple light peeking through is tantalizingly close, but—

“Oh,” Kyungsoo bites back a gasp as he bumps into what feels like a brick wall. Looking up, he sees the broad chest of the largest bouncer. It’s unsettling to see the mask of a face; only dark pupils peek through the blank fabric. They’re dilated an alien black.

“Hello handsome, if you’ll excuse us, we’re just here to perform,” Jongin says, trying to push past smoothly. “Hey!” he cries out in mock surprise as the bouncer grabs his arm. A few people behind them gasp and take out their phones to record, stirring another surge in the crowd. That’s his cue. Kyungsoo slips between some whispering men and sequined women, and the tight throng does the rest. 

Kyungsoo’s gone. 

Jongin’s strong. He can handle himself.

***

The nightclub is dark and humid like a rainforest. A purple laser grid dimly lights everyone’s faces from below, reminding Kyungsoo of those laser security systems in old spy movies. It makes him feel a little bit trapped, a little bit like a thief. 

He walks further. It’s loud. Crowded. The bass batters his eardrums. Powder and smoke, drops of liquid magic in the air are the first to hit his sinuses as he rounds a corner where sinuous bodies writhe snakelike across the floor. His sense of smell is muted by the nostril nodes but he can tell there’s something different in the air, something subtle but persistent like a tickle at the tip of his tongue.

“Welcome to the Night Dragon,” says a nude woman stretched across a red lounge chair. Half a dozen shirtless men lay beside her, their arms draped over her breasts, their sharp jawlines buried in her neck to smell her hair, pour her a new flute of champagne.

Kyungsoo walks briskly past, but not without giving a respectful nod to her as all the other patrons do upon entering. The last thing he needs to do is to attract attention.

Before he makes it two steps, another swell of bass-boosted music pulses through the speakers to the beat of his throbbing headache. He groans and bends at the waist, rubbing at his temples like a madman. _ There’s something about this place, I think it’s making me sick. _

“Hey,” someone whispers in his ear from behind.

Kyungsoo’s on the man in a flash, pinning strong, yielding arms behind a relaxed back before he realizes. _ Oh, Jongin. Of course. _ Kyungsoo lets go. He’s never going to get used to seeing that mask on him. 

Jongin’s unphased. When he leans in to whisper, Kyungsoo cups his hand around his ear like he’s protecting a gem of a secret. “Guess what, I convinced the bouncer to let me in because I’m a _ performer, _” Jongin winks, “but he’s still on my tail. I’m gonna have to show him I mean it. Wait here, I’ll see you in a few.” With that, he turns to leave.

“Jongin, no, why don’t _ you _ wait, you can’t be serious,” Kyungsoo says, grabbing at Jongin’s wrists desperately, but Jongin slips through his fingers and he grabs some other man instead. With a quick shrug and a hasty “sorry” he runs after Jongin’s retreating back, but it’s too late; Jongin’s already lost in the crowd, the lingering scent of wood smoke in the air the only indication that he’d been there at all. Kyungsoo’s left standing amidst a crowd of fistpumping zombies, most of them probably high out of their minds on ecstasy.

“He leave you all alone?” husks a hot voice in his ear. Kyungsoo jumps, which is surprising. He’s usually more on guard, more prepared. What’s up with him lately? It doesn’t matter because now the red-faced man is brushing against Kyungsoo’s arm, making to grab at his ass. 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. He thinks back to Jongin that first night after their canceled concert tour, when he drank through all the bottles in the dorm (there were a lot). His face turned swollen and blotchy red like there were hot pokers sitting under his skin. Kyungsoo remembers how he cried and begged for someone to bring him his bedsheets and bear pillow so he could rest, finally rest, and how he flinched away when Kyungsoo tried to leave a goodnight kiss on his forehead.

With a start, Kyungsoo realizes that the man has reached his fingers around the back of his neck, his ragged nails brushing dangerously close to the pins holding Kyungsoo’s wig in place. All Kyungsoo’s muscles tense impossibly tight. “No, absolutely not,” he says, mustering his best death stare into the man’s constricted pupils. He tightens one trained hand around the man’s hairy wrist, _ squeezes, _and thankfully, it’s enough. 

There’s a loose pop in the man’s wrist. “Bitch.” The man goes lax against him, turns tail and leaves. Kyungsoo watches him go with a twinge of fiery regret. 

_ I should have cut his hand off. _

After a heartbeat, Kyungsoo shouts, “Say that again!” But it’s too late. The man’s already lost in the crowd, faceless. He could be the drunk guy swaying a few paces away and Kyungsoo wouldn’t know.

***

Kyungsoo meanders through the hottest nightclub in the big city, searching for an unidentifiable, impossibly generic white boy. After darting around a sea of sweaty grinding bodies for what feels like an hour, he looks towards the raised LED stage and spots a flash of an unmistakable tanned nape dart behind the curtains. What’s Jongin doing without his mask? He’s lost his goddamn mind.

Kyungsoo pushes through the crowd to draw closer. The stage is teeming with stage hands bustling around like worker ants. It’s vast. _ Whoo, okay. _ From the edge of the crowd, Kyungsoo sets his jaw and throws a mechanical pebble from his pocket, the last one in his supply. It skitters to a stop a few yards away in the wheels of a metal clothes rack, where it unfolds into a dozen miniature shards. 

“Bob, you hear that?”

“Think Reb dropped another wine glass?”

“Nah, that sounded like a strobe light.”

“Well shit.”

While the stage crew rushes toward the source of the shattering, Kyungsoo sneaks onstage and slips behind the curtains. 

The hallways are long and tall and narrow and every door has a _ Restricted Access _ sign on it. In stark contrast to the nightclub, the backstage areas are brightly lit and sterile white. It’s strangely quiet; only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead. Kyungsoo’s footsteps echo in the space and he wants to cringe at every step.

Standing outside the first door labeled _ Staff Only _ is Jongin, draped in a lewd leather harness that barely covers his nipples, complete with thigh high straps and daring black pumps.

_ Oh, hey, didn’t think you’d get here so fast. How come— _

“Stop it, Jongin,” Kyungsoo hisses, shaking him by the shoulders. There’s a creeping sense of dread buzzing up his spine. This is insane. “Where’s your mask? What are you _ thinking! _You know we’re here to find our guy, that’s it.”

“Come on, I know what I’m doing! That mask was just getting stuffy—I could barely breathe in there. Speaking of which, have you noticed how good this place smells? Why can’t we have a little fun while we’re here? You know I haven’t performed in years.”

“Jongin, you—”

“Next up is the boldly charismatic, the darkly mysterious, the up-and-coming _ Kai _ !” booms a deep voice over the speaker system. Kyungsoo shudders at the sudden roar of hoots and hollers from outside, muted by thick curtains but impossibly close. _ You’d think it’s a wrestling ring down there. _

Jongin cocks his head. “Well, that’s my cue.” 

“Oh, you have a pornstar name now?” That’s not exactly what Kyungsoo wanted to say. He wants to say he’s worried.

“It’s a _stage name, _and I’m _performing._” Jongin pulls Kyungsoo in by the back of his neck and looks him dead in the eye, the way he used to when they were nervous teenagers waiting for their first curtain to rise. “Now you better cheer for me.” 

Kyungsoo swallows and watches as Jongin makes his way onstage. 

Kyungsoo follows until he’s at the edge where he can peek out from the stage wing, dangerously close to where he can be seen by the audience, but he finds he doesn’t care. The stage dims to black and a hush falls over the crowd. A single spotlight follows Jongin as he stalks out in a black harness. 

Kyungsoo barely recognizes him. Strings of glittery crystals draped across his waist and thighs slap invitingly against his ass. The stage is empty but for a single gold pole in the center, which Jongin makes his way towards slowly but deliberately, each click of his heel echoing like a gunshot in the silence. 

Then the spotlights flash, the bass from the speakers kick in, and Jongin is on the pole, hanging upside down in the graceful backbend of a swan. He slides down teasingly to cheers and flashes of purple strobe lights from the ice bar.

Kyungsoo stands stock-still as he watches. He’s having an out of body experience, or whatever you call it when your soul is being lifted from your body. Reduced to his eyes and Jongin, Jongin’s honey smooth skin, Jongin’s muscled arms supporting the heft and feel of his own weight, Jongin Jongin Jongin. Kyungsoo sees green bills fly from invisible hands and fold into Jongin’s pockets like butterflies. Kyungsoo’s tongue twists into a dry knot and his feet tingle and split off into twenty toes. Beneath his toes, the music spreads like roots, dissolving into vaporous waves that color his vision purple. If lightning strikes him on the spot and he dies now, he knows his eyeballs will roll out of his sockets and continue to watch Jongin dance.

Jongin does a running front flip onto the pole, where he catches his fall with one perfect leg wrapped around taut. The muscles in his back ripple as he does an impossible spinning backbend twelve feet in the air. His body is an infinite loop. How did he get so high?

The end is marked by a searing at the temples, a pain in the heart. Jongin bows to sexy applause. Kyungsoo blinks abruptly. Since when did it stop? He’s unable to move, unable to do anything but stare. From just their few years leave from the entertainment industry, Kyungsoo’s already forgotten the creature that Jongin turns into on stage.

As if suspended in water, Jongin turns from the crowd and cracks a slow smile at Kyungsoo with that shine in his eyes, that simple innocent wonder that makes Kyungsoo want to touch his fingers to his cheek because he looks handsome, and happy, and Kyungsoo wonders why he even bothers to remember anything but Jongin here, now, in moments like this. Time stretches on and on like a frame from one of those sci-fi thrillers Kyungsoo used to watch over and over again just to pause at the same scene, all because Jongin wanted to savor that moment of peace, that moment of sunlight streaming in through their shared bedroom window, wanted to study the faces of the actors stuck in time like he could read their hearts like open pages. 

***

Jongin is in a playful mood after the performance. To the disappointment of the clamoring audience, he slipped out through a backstage exit just as the curtains fell. He’s always been good at disappearing. 

Now he leads Kyungsoo deeper, to the adult arcade, which looks like the inside of a Las Vegas casino. The few people milling about seem immersed in their screen and have game glasses or arm controllers on. Bright words flash across every wall, the sleek letters bouncing invitingly. A projection of a giant eagle soars across the dark ceiling with a loud, mechanical caw. “Wow,” Jongin breathes. “I think it’s, I think it’s pulling me _ in._ You can wait here, I’ll be back in a few.”

“No, where are you _ going—_” Kyungsoo recognizes Jongin’s playful grin, but it still stresses him out. Kyungsoo doesn’t consider himself to be _ bad _at direction, but this place is huge. He wouldn’t be surprised if this place was built with drug money. Speaking of which, they still have yet to find their man. Suho’s not going to be too pleased… 

“Oh, you wanna come with? Then come on, let’s look around.” Jongin grins widely, looping his arm through Kyungsoo’s and pulling him along. “You haven’t had proper time at a club since what, you were twenty?”

“Was not,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “I don’t need to break the law to have fun. I was twenty-one.”

“Okay, okay. I bet you’ll love this. Come on, I’ve always wanted to try one with you.”

Jongin stops to point out a bright room-sized box in the center of it all. One wall displays a touchscreen reminiscent of a neon slot machine. The other three screen walls show a lush forested clearing at twilight. Kyungsoo draws closer. “VR 4D wrap-around ultra reality room,” he reads carefully. “Feel. Touch. Believe. Release is guaranteed.” A stand holds two VR headsets and a passcode to what Kyungsoo assumes is the door to the room. Jongin tilts his head. _ Ready? _

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He sees the fronds curl and beckon in a sweet, nonexistent breeze. _ I suppose it looks rather relaxing. _

_ Yeah. _Jongin picks up a VR headset, types in some passcode, and the touchscreen wall slides up to reveal the room inside. Jongin enters without a second thought. Kyungsoo hesitates before following suit. As he enters he fits the headset over his eyes and feels automatic straps wrap around the back of his head. 

In moments, Kyungsoo’s headache melts away, only to be replaced by a strange satisfaction, a lazy, empty fog of contentment in his mind. Had he even had a headache in the first place? Why did he not notice? What did he want? He wants nothing. He wants everything. Across the room, jasper trees spring up from a lush carpet turning green before his eyes and blank walls pixelate into real night sky, real moon and stars. The air is saturated to 100% humidity, the mist coating his lungs as if he were in a steam sauna. Everything feels hazy. Walking is harder somehow; he keeps making larger, heavier steps into the earth than he means to. Or maybe the earth is just spongy and wants to absorb his toes. He’s trampling all the delicate little fronds. 

Suddenly, a bush of sensitive ferns furl inwards like snails after being poked. A pitcher plant burps deeply. Kyungsoo jumps at a rustle. In this dark forest without Jongin (where’d he go?), Kyungsoo knows there are eyes on him. He feels it in his spine. He slowly turns to see a pair of glowing green eyes from the dark spot between the shadow of a briar patch. The eyes narrow into yellow slits as he watches in horror, mouth agape.

They disappear in a blink. Kyungsoo blinks into the darkness left behind, once, twice, before the terror sets in. All his senses are heightened. He hears the drip of one bead of sweat down his neck, a blade of disturbed grass rustle like a whistle in the wind. With his heart thundering in his ears, Kyungsoo turns and runs. 

He comes face to face with Jongin. Kyungsoo sighs with relief. "Oh my god, there you are." Then he notices Jongin's eyes narrow into slits. “What the _ fuck—” _

Jongin grabs him by the back of the neck with impossible force. Jongin’s strong, but not this strong. No human should have such a bruising grip. Kyungsoo holds back a whimper as Jongin pulls him in closer, so close he can see the sharp glint of a fang poking out from the side of his grin—

“Jongin, stop!” Kyungsoo cries, slapping Jongin across the face. Kyungsoo looks up, panting, “Snap out of it.” 

Jongin lets go. He looks up at Kyungsoo, holding one hand to his reddened cheek like he’s been personally offended. That expression quickly drops into something darker. “Out of _ what, _SooSoo?” Jongin practically purrs, stalking towards Kyungsoo in the most predatory way. He’s getting too close again. Kyungsoo’s frozen, rooted to the spot. Pointed fangs and rounded, velvety black ears spring up from Jongin’s head. Kyungsoo swallows dryly. 

“Aah!” Kyungsoo yelps. Jongin just slapped him across the face, hard. When he touches his cheek it’s burning, and lifting his fingers from his face he can see three perfect little drops of blood dripping from where Jongin’s budding claws just nicked him.

Jongin snakes his body across Kyungsoo’s and leans in, his tail swishing, arms on either side of Kyungsoo’s head caging him in. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against Kyungsoo’s ear. _ What is happening. _ Kyungsoo shudders involuntarily as a sharp nip at his earlobe goes unexpectedly south. Kyungsoo remembers golden summers with Jongin’s legs tangled in his despite the sticky heat, Kyungsoo’s hands tangled in his hair between soft sheets after shows, a kiss to the temple holding promise. God, they haven’t fucked in so long. What happened? But this is different. This is bad, this is very bad. 

“I—I’ve just never noticed how good you smell,” Jongin gasps, squirming against Kyungsoo’s lap. Kyungsoo struggles and writhes, but he can’t seem to get out of Jongin’s grasp, can’t seem to escape the hot stripe Jongin licks up his neck—

In the back of Kyungsoo’s mind, he can hear a sort of laughter. It’s almost hazy like a hallucination, except it grows and swells larger, twisting and echoing off the walls until it fills the room. 

A man materializes at the end of the room, no, comes into focus. He’s tall and slightly lanky in the arms. Looks good in a suit. Kyungsoo recognizes him from the grainy security footage in Suho’s case file. Wu. Shit. How did he know they'd be here, tonight?

Wu throws something thin and silver. It spins towards Jongin like a flint cutting through the air, microblades extending from its edges. “Jongin!” Kyungsoo cries out desperately. As if in slow motion, Jongin’s eyes widen. He drops and rolls to the side just as the blade whips through the air and slices through some ferns. To Kyungsoo’s shock, it stutters and crackles into a mess of purple electricity upon contact. Kyungsoo thinks it’s some sort of invisible fence until the whole forest glitches with a loud _ zap _, and the holograms melt away, leaving blank grey walls in their place. 

Jongin shakes his head. He stands up uncertainly, as if he’s just come to. Gone are the cat ears and slit pupils. Jongin’s just Jongin, scared and normal. His eyes dart around the room. It’s a rather small room, maybe a break or empty storage room.

Wu smiles thinly as he walks over, twisting a bottle of pills in his large, large knuckles. “Night vision contacts? Or is it an iris implant? Perhaps some high end cone surgery for two Kpop idols to better see on a dark stage? That’s some fancy stuff you’ve got going.” He turns and sighs. “Tell me, who sent you?”

Jongin spits at his feet. “We have backup coming. Now tell me, what’s all this fanciness with the high end nightclub? Cover for deals? Other activity? What’s this place built off of?”

_God, making Wu angry is not how you bide for time._ Kyungsoo wants to slap him again.

  
Wu spreads his large hands. “Nothing but my own ingenuity, and some help.” 

A large figure emerges from the shadows. Kyungsoo recognizes him as the largest bodyguard from the entrance. He strips off the bulky suit and becomes slender, catlike, slinking over to Wu’s side like a lithe panther. His eyes still peek through holes in an otherwise skin tight black bodysuit. Watching. Unnerving.

“You’re probably wondering. Micro particles. Biological warfare. Why isn’t the government stopping me? They want what I have. They _ wish _ they had what I have. Well they don’t, and they don’t have the science to replicate it. They’re just _ begging _to weaponize my invention. But I don’t strike dead deals.”

Jongin frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Wu ignores him and closes in on Kyungsoo instead. He comes up close enough for Kyungsoo to see the individual hairs of his thick, angry brows. Then he bends down to grip Kyungsoo’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. In the far corner, the lithe bodyguard stiffens. “Your friend here seems to be acting less and less like himself since he’s taken his mask off. More...reckless, perhaps? You, on the other hand, you’ve had a pretty unique reaction. I’ve never seen anyone reenact their wet dream in this room.” Kyungsoo flushes red but thinks better of protesting. “Notice anything… special in the air?”

  
Kyungsoo thinks back to those wires in his nostrils. Across from him, Jongin’s frowning even harder, racking his brain for something at the tip of his tongue. 

Wu sighs. His long fingers slide down Kyungsoo’s neck like giant spiders and comes to rest at his pulse point. “Come on, I thought this would be easy for two people who were able to sneak backstage at a place like this.” 

“T-the air. You’ve poisoned it,” Jongin blurts. His eyes are the widest Kyungsoo’s seen them. 

Wu laughs. “Close enough. I’m seeding thunderclouds with opium. I can dissolve opium in silver iodide and seed it into rain. I can create LSD and psilocybin vapors, alcohol and heroin in the air you breathe. Each room here has a special cocktail of luxury flavor; the dance floor is alcohol and the arcade and stage are heavy on hallucinogens. Each person will react a little differently in here, depending on what they happen to breathe in more of. Headache is common, but that doesn’t put people off from returning. Seems far-fetched, no? Well, that’s what my last coworker told me.”

Kyungsoo’s mind races. He thinks back to the news, all the storm and climate reports recently. The epidemic reports with lists upon lists of side effects similar to that of opiate use. The animal species dropping dead like flies. He thinks about his in-ear, how its wires fit over his mucus membranes, probably blocking most absorption through the bloodstream.

“So it’s not global warming? It’s _ you?” _

Wu flaps a hand dismissively. The casualness of the gesture looks odd on him. “No, that’s still on centuries of human waste and pollution. All I’m responsible for are a few drugged up fish and whatever.”

“A _ few?” _ Jongin asks furiously.

This time there’s a clench of his jaw before Wu speaks. “That’s not the point. All I’m doing is running my business. What I’ve done is no different from what tobacco companies and the alcohol industry’s done. And once I figure out how to make these drugs pass transdermally, I’ll surpass them all. I’ll become bigger than a monopoly; I’ll have political leaders under my control. Hell, the whole country. ‘_Please Kris, make it rain!’”_ He says in a mock-high voice. “Now, Jongin what do you say? I like how you rile up the customers. They’re going to leave these doors with more than one addiction today. That means raving reviews. You work for me, don’t peep a word, and I reward you with all the time you want here.”  
Jongin just stares. 

Wu shrugs. “If that’s how you want to play, good luck leaving this place. I’ve got you hooked. Withdrawal can be…painful, to say the least.”

Suddenly, a silver pipe wacks hard at the back of Wu’s knees. He stumbles and turns, his eyebrows raised. 

It’s the bodyguard. He’s pulled off the black mask to reveal sleek, catlike eyes. Kyungsoo’s thrown off by his features, how they’re delicate and almost… pretty. “Shut it, Kris! I’m tired of being your assassin! Your druggie! Your—your fucked up little fuck doll!” His voice rises hysterically.

“Oh come on, babe, you’re my all three. You’re my little triple threat, Tao.” Wu reaches out to touch Tao’s cheek with a surprising tenderness. As terrible as it is, Jongin feels an alarming lurch in his heart. When was the last time Kyungsoo had touched him like that? When had Kyungsoo grown so tired with him? So jaded?

“Don’t fucking touch me. I think I might die.”

“But babe, I’ve made withdrawal needles for you.” He reaches out again, shaking the little bottle of pills in his hand, only for Tao to slap him across the face. There’s been a lot of slapping, Jongin notices.

“I’m weak and tired and sick of this shit! I hate being addicted.” Tao’s lips are wobbling now. He crosses his arms over his chest and it looks more defensive than mad. “If you really loved me, you’d have let me go long ago.”

Kris brings a thumb to stroke over his pretty lips and this time Tao doesn’t slap him away. “Oh, and where do you think you’ll go? Crawling back to Min as if he’s not tired of your ass already? You can’t kick your habit, Tao. Minseok doesn’t have what you need, what your _ body _ needs now.”

Jongin’s eyes just about bug out of his head. _ Minseok? _One glance at Kyungsoo tells him he’s thinking the same thing.

_ Oops. _

“I fucking hate you!” Tao screams and slaps Kris again. His eyes are still dilated to glassy black pools through what Jongin assumes is performance-enhancing methamphetamine. It’s probably making his slaps land that much harder.

Tao’s still slapping Kris around by the time the federal backup arrives. The rest happens in a blur. Tao and Kris are shot with tranquilizer darts. An officer helps Kyungsoo to his feet. He’s shaking. Jongin’s shaking.

“No no no,” Jongin warns, panicky, as one burly SWAT guy picks Jongin up bridal style and carries him out the back entrance with the rest of the SWAT team without warning. The drug-free air hits his lungs and it sets in within minutes. Kris is right. Withdrawal is painful. The last thing Jongin sees before his vision spots out to black is Kyungsoo in some other buff guy’s arms, looking very small and tired.

***

Jongin wakes up gasping. He sits up and pain spikes through the back of his head. Urgh. 

Clean, sterile walls. Steady beeping and the tube of an IV drip in his arm. He’s in a hospital. He recognizes the interior as Swedish Medical Center due to past visits, so at least he’s in the same state.

There’s a doctor in the corner. “You were in withdrawal. You and Kyungsoo have been knocked out for a week as the doctors were pumping your livers,” he explains calmly. “You’ll both be fine. Headache is common. Now please lie down and rest.” He comes into focus as Jongin’s eyes adjust to the light. That’s no doctor. That’s Suho.

“Fuck you. I need Kyungsoo, where’s Kyungsoo,” Jongin mumbles. “I need Kyungsoo.”

“Fine, fine. He’s next to you. Now don’t freak out, so is Kris. He’s knocked out. The feds just want him here until he's good to attend his hearing.”

Jongin winces as he turns his head to look. Yup, there’s Kyungsoo. And Tao and Kris on the next cot over, Kris with his wrists cuffed as he sleeps. Suho warned him, but it’s still weird enough to make Jongin do a double take. “Am I still hallucinating?”

  
“I can understand why you’d think that, but no, that’s over with. You didn’t need to worry about anything, really. What, you think I’d let you guys go into that club without a pair of extra eyes? I wanted to see the inside of this notorious nightclub for myself, too. Plus I called backup.”

Jongin blinks, remembers the night after a successful debut stage, when manager Suho finally broke the news to him. “You want to be a puppet of capitalism? Is that what you want? The Kpop industry is dying, Jongin. Nobody wants to watch a cutesy boyband dance on stage while the recession hits and climate doomsday is coming. I know I told you those training exercises are for fending off crazy stalkers, and well, yes, but maybe not in the way you thought I meant. Work for me and I’ll guarantee you work, but not in this industry.” Jongin was scared, and young, and afraid he wouldn’t be able to afford their next meal. And ok sure, this has paid the bills for four years now, but this isn’t what he wants. 

Jongin blinks at the hospital room, the quiet beep of Kyungsoo’s vitals monitor beside him. “I quit,” Jongin blurts. Screw that life. Screw it all. Jongin doesn’t care. All he wants is Kyungsoo to open his eyes, to say hello in a sleepy voice and cuddle with him until they forget all this ever happened.

Suho shrugs. “I thought you would say that. And honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. We just got a massive payout from the government for catching Wu. I think we’ll all be fine.”

***

It’s not until a day later, after Kris has been flown out with a team of armed men to his hearing and Tao to see a government sponsored therapist that Kyungsoo wakes up. 

“Jongin,” he calls quietly. Jongin nearly stumbles off the hospital bed to make his way over. Kyungsoo’s cheeks are tinged slightly pink again. He blinks drowsily. “What happened?”

Jongin feels his eyes well up. “Kris was flown off in a chopper and Suho says we got a government payout. We can quit, Soo. We can do anything.”

Kyungsoo just lies there for a moment, drinking in Jongin’s hopeful eyes, his excitement. Kyungsoo touches his cheek and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh this might be one of the stranger Kaisoo fics I've written. Hope you enjoyed anyways haha  
I love feedback :> ♥️

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Thanks fest organizers! This is probably one of the stranger kaisoo fics I've written but I hope you enjoyed haha  
I love feedback :> ♥️
> 
> Twitter: [@jazinoodle](https://mobile.twitter.com/jazinoodle)  
Instagram: [@jazzine_art](https://www.instagram.com/jazzine_art/)  
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